You're Within My Sight
by Faye3
Summary: Spike can't wake from the dream... NOTE: for serious Bebop fans only, obscure references. Please R & R
1. Sensory Overload

1  
  
He thrashed around, hitting something soft. Ropes! Ropes all around him! He had to escape! Now! "No, no! Not Julia! Take me.leave her!" Suddenly a hand clamped onto his shoulder. "Spike! You've been having a dream! Shh, it's okay. Spike, it's okay." He clung blindly, like a small child, to whoever was talking. The voice was familiar. He reached a trembling hand out to stroke her hair.it was long. Silky. "Faye?" A soft laugh. "No, silly. It's me, Julia." "Julia? But y-y-you died!" A light went on, and the room was bathed in a soft glow. He looked over, and saw-Julia. Just like she had been before she died. "Spike, I'm right here. I never died. You've been tossing around all night. Should I get you some tea?" He shook his head, confused. "What time is it?" She looked at him. "About five. You should go back to sleep, it's too early. I'm going to make some tea." She slid over the sheets, leaving a warm spot that Spike rolled over to smother with his sweaty chest. He stared at the ceiling, pupils contracting in the light. Why was he here? He scanned the walls, eyes moving slowly over all the objects that were there.he belonged here, that was the thought at the front of his mind. But a nagging fly batted at the back of his mind: You've never lived here. It's only a dream again. Again. He tried to shove it away, slap that back to where it belonged. He turned to his side, examining the expanse of white sheet. Individual fibers, woven together. He heard a sudden rustling, and looked up. A tiger-striped cat was perched on the windowsill, staring at him, large eyes glittering in the half light. He made a guttural sound in his throat, begging it to go away. It cocked its head, giving him a quizzical look. "Go away." He pleaded. For some reason, this cat stirred up feelings that had been buried deep inside him somewhere. Another noise alerted him, and he looked unwillingly at the door, which slowly opened. Julia entered the room, cradling a steaming cup of tea. "Spike?" The cat silently padded away. The tea slopped slightly over the edge of the cup. One burning drop traveled downward, hitting the ground with a plop that seemed a thousand times magnified to his ears. "Spike?" She repeated hopelessly. "Hmm?" He looked at her, giving a long glance. "Go back to bed. You've got work today." Work? He couldn't remember that. Wait.work.Vicious.work.Vicious.who was Vicious? He tucked that in the back of his mind for later. He'd ask Julia. "Right. It's a big day ahead of us!" Even to his own ears the words sounded forced, like the overly-sticky sweetness of cheap sherry. Ugh. Not even noon and he needed a drink. Julia was sitting in the rocking chair that had been there forever.wait. No, it hadn't. Only a few days ago he had been aboard a ship. Devoid of furniture, metal, blank.why was he remembering this? It was not his life, he was sure. But it had all seemed so real.he remembered one line the man that was him had said-"I'm just living in a dream I never wake up from." That man had been him. Or someone like him. He felt disoriented, unreal. Slowly, he shut his eyes and watched the blackness until stars flew quickly to the center of his pupils. 


	2. Is It Real

He didn't even bother to let out a cry. Once again, his eyes were wide open and seeing nothing. Julia-his Julia-was lying by him, breathing deeply. Blindly, one hand groped for her familiar warmth. It was only after that dream this had started-that one damned dream! It had all seemed so real, the man named Jet, the woman Faye. The ship. Vicious. He shivered even at the name-Vicious. What normal human had a name like Vicious? Vicious wasn't normal, his brain reminded him. Why did Vicious remain? He was just another character in the dream, gossamer body fading as the sun rose. But Spike could nearly touch him. Julia's long sigh and slight movement suddenly cut into his thoughts, scattering them like so many loose beads. He checked the clock lying on the bedside table: 6:20 AM. It was only a little too early for him to get up, start the day. Life was a nightmare.he turned back over, searching for relief in this desert of insomnia.  
  
An hour later, he was up, frantically pawing through a jumble of clothes on the floor. "Shit!" Julia stirred slightly and turned, stretching luxuriously. "Honey, what's wrong?" He didn't bother answering. It was already 7:40-nearly time for him to leave for work. His respectable, well- paying job. The very thought sickened him. He would stay out after work today, go to a bar. Get a drink. Drown his sorrows, or something like that. Absentmindedly, he pulled on a faded blue jacket and added a tie. He examined himself in the mirror, liking the effect. Without a backward glance at Julia, her angelic hair fanned out in a halo, he left the room. His black shoes made soft thuds on the floor.  
  
As he sat at the metal desk, staring blankly at the screen in front of him, one of his coworkers poked his head in. "We have a staff meetin' today, remember?" He was barely aware that he nodded, mind still pursuing the dream. It had been nearly two weeks now since it had started coming. Every night, he relived the entire drama again and again, until he awoke. He tried to shake himself free of the dream, but no.he never would be.  
  
He entered the bar known as the "Black Crow". The outcasts of society seemed to stay here, suspended in time, only breaking the rhythm to gesture for another round of sake. Ignoring the probing stares by the other men, he slumped at a bar stool and lifted a hand. The bartender walked over, still polishing a glass. He had a mousy, unwashed look about him. "So what'll it be, pardner?" "Gin and tonic." The man nodded, and giving Spike a long glance went off to concoct god-knows-what in the back room. Someone stalked over and sat down by Spike. He registered slightly, until he looked out of pure boredom. Shock slashed itself across his face and he uttered a wordless moan. The stranger looked over at him and smiled easily. "Y-y-y- you look familiar," He stuttered, trying to collect himself. "Like someone in a dream I once had." "And why wouldn't I? After all, I had the same dream, Spike." ".you know my name." There was no question in his voice now, only a steady beat of something.resentment? Anger at the past being shoved in his face so crudely? Anger that the dream was still alive? "Don't you remember me?" The stranger looked at him, an unnerving gaze that was covered by mirrored glasses. The bartender set down a glass, ice cubes clinking against one another . He ignored it, his eyes traveling unsteadily from long, porcelain-pale legs, a short brown coat, white neck, red lips, and finally, the eyes still covered by the sunglasses. "Tell me, what's your name? Please." This last word held almost a begging note. Slowly, with a smile, she reached up and removed the sunglasses, revealing familiar eyes. Eyes that held chords of the past, ringing true. Eyes that had made promises. Betrayals. Eyes that had long ago lost their owner to hatred and loneliness. He remembered those eyes. "Faye." he said, his voice shaking. "Faye Valentine." 


	3. Functional Brain

3.  
  
She sat for a moment, then impulsively threw her arms around him. He didn't react, just let her lean into him, close and warm.alive. It didn't feel wrong, like some slut throwing herself at him, just pure.unadulterated.love. Or something like it. He didn't know love. "Oh.god." her muffled voice had more than a hint of tears in it. He sat, emotionless. Don't react. Why is she alive? This could be just a dream, right? ".I thought you'd forgotten me. I don't know what I'd do if you had." Awkwardly, he patted her back, feeling the spine through her thin shirt. A spine he could snap with his strong hands like so many twigs. "Why are you alive?" The words came unbidden from his mouth. She jerked up to look at his blank face, the words forced out. "Spike, what do you mean?" He continued, ignoring her. "You were just another dream, weren't you? I have no perception of reality. You were gone, but you're here.alive." "Don't you remember, Spike? All the times I cared for you? After all those fights, and all the times you got yourself in trouble? Don't you remember?" Don't you remember? Don't you remember? He turned his face away from hers. "You're just another demon wanting to suck my soul, eh?" "No! Spike, you were never like this." He was never like this. "Spike, listen to me. I have to tell you something, it's important. Come with me." He allowed her to lead him to a back room, with a folding table lit by one bulb overhead. "Sorry about this. The ISSP is on my tail again.I have another bounty on me." "Poker Alice. They called you that for a good reason." "No, for once I haven't broken any laws. The fact I'm alive and have a functioning brain that remembers is enough for them." "What do you remember?" "So much. Enough to drive anyone to insanity.but look at me! Still here! Hah!" Her face twisted into a grimacing laugh, and a tear rolled down her cheek. "Tell me. What is it?" He looked at her, anxious. She settled her graceful body on the metal folding chair, with a semblance of comfort. "What can I say? The dream is a reality, and the reality is all a dream." 


End file.
